


apologies

by winter_angst



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock just hopes it’ll be the last.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Kudos: 18





	apologies

“You promised.”

Brock doesn’t raise his eyes up from the coffee, flat black, unsweetened and bitter. He holds it in both hands, maybe to hide the shaking, maybe because it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

Jack’s hovering there. Brock can sense him, can feel him watching him. 

“Brock,” he starts and his voice is rough and thick with emotion. “Brock, I’m so sorry.”

It’s not fair, Brock thinks, clenching his eyes shut. He had spent the entire morning staring at his reflection, wondering why he couldn’t put on his shoes and just go. He knows he can crash at a friends house, the same friend who has been urging him to leave since the first time he saw the finger shaped bruises on Brock’s arm. 

“You promised,” he repeats, voice a bit higher than he wanted but he can’t help it. “You promised me Jack.”

Jack closes the space between them in one step and Brock doesn’t need to open his eyes to know he was sinking down to his knees. His fingers were warm as he rested them gently, so very gently, on his knees. 

“I’m a worthless piece of shit.”

Brock’s heart hurts. He knows that it’s part of the manipulation, that he needs to say no and walk out, but he’s always been weak for Jack. For the love of his life. For the one who beats him when he’s had too much to drink.

Brock drags in a ragged breath of his own. He’s given up the idea of holding power so long ago that having it resting in his hands was foreign. The old saying that daughters marry men like their father pops into his head; Brock wonders if it’s the same for men because sometimes he wonders why he let himself get in a situation like this again.

“I can’t live without,” Jack says, resting his forehead against Brock’s knees. “If I don’t have you… God, I have nothing left to live for.”

It isn’t fair. It isn’t love. So why does the idea of Jack no longer existing fill him with terror? Five years was worth more than a few fights wasn’t it? No, Brock reminds himself, an argument between couples should mean cold shoulders and snide remarks, not being trapped inside for two weeks while the marks healed. 

But… Jack has always taken care of him. Their cushy apartment and Brock never had to work a day. So what if he needs to tell Jack where he was going. Jack bought him the newest cell phones available — of course it makes sense that he needs to answer his calls and return messages promptly. He has Jack’s ring on his finger so yes, they should agree on what friends the other has.

But… Brock never has a say. It’s always been Jack. And that’s not right. He knows it’s not right and when he voices it, he gets hurt. That’s not a healthy relationship. 

“Brock, baby, say something.”

But love is complicated, isn’t it? Jack works hard and if he needs to spend an evening out drinking then that needs to be okay. It’s Brock’s fault he got hurt. He never knows when to stop. 

Brock moves on hand from the mug and rests it on Jack’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. 

Jack sighs quietly, going lax. 

“We’re gonna be okay, baby,” he tells Brock and any thoughts about leaving vanish. “I love you, you know that.”

Brock nods before he remembers Jack can’t see him. “Okay.”

Jack’s fingers tighten a bit on his knees. “I love you,” he says again, a firm reminder of another one of Brock’s silly mistakes.

“I love you Jack.”

The next morning Brock finds a white orchid in a pretty navy ceramic pot with tiny stones. A card beside it says, ‘you’ll always be mine’. 

Brock wonders if it’s a promise or a threat before he shakes off the thought and finds the orchid a nice home. It fits in nicely with the peace lily, African violets and coral bells. Each holds a small reminder of events Brock wishes he could forget but instead he focuses on what they really were: apologies. 

Brock just hopes it'll be the last.


End file.
